


communion

by sapphosomniac (FemslashAndPoly)



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Aftercare, Biting, Blood Drinking, F/F, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sex, Vampire!Yuri, but in a sexy sacrilegious way, yep it's the good ol' suck n fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemslashAndPoly/pseuds/sapphosomniac
Summary: Yuri has a spiritual experience during a feeding session.
Relationships: Sayori/Yuri (Doki Doki Literature Club!)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	communion

**Author's Note:**

> Happy valentines, y'all! This one goes out to all my fellow vampire fuckers out there, shoutout to the homies. Thanks to my partners for beta reading this!

Yuri has fed from Sayori before, but never like this.

Always in a clinical, procedural setting, never in a place so luxurious, so intimate as a bedroom.

Never close enough to touch more than the bare minimum, let alone pressed tight together with Sayori in her lap, wrapping her arms around the back of Yuri’s neck.

Never with her face settled into the crook of Sayori’s neck, where she can hear every little noise she makes. Hear, in marvellous clarity, Sayori’s sharp intake of breath devolve into a moan when she bites down as tenderly as she can.

Sayori has never  _ moaned _ when she’s fed from her before.

Sayori has always tasted delicious, but never this tangy-sweet that makes Yuri’s chest rumble and warmth spread to her stomach, and lower still. Heady ambrosia dancing over her tongue. A nectar that grows ever more saccharine as Yuri’s hand finds the space where Sayori has started to squirm against her and  _ strokes, _ drawing a breathless whimper from her lips.

Sayori’s scent has always been sublime, but never so intoxicating that it makes Yuri’s head swim with want. And oh, how she  _ wants. _ Wants to sink her fangs in further and drink deeply of her, almost as much as she wants to free her mouth, to tell Sayori how absolutely perfect she is in this moment. How surely, she must be a blessing from the gods, because only something blessed could sound so heavenly, taste so divine.

Sayori has never thrust herself  _into_ Yuri’s fangs before, and the resulting keen is like  _ music, _ a private hymn. If lust was a sin, then why was this paradise? Only a fool could call this blasphemy, call the way Sayori leans into her touch, into  _her bite , _ anything but gospel in motion.

What choice does she have but to worship? If bodies were made to be temples, Yuri wants to be Sayori’s most devout believer. The arch of her back, the softness,  _ wetness _ of her thighs, the excited thrumming of her heartbeat, the way Sayori draws her close, moulds to her touch, offers her name up as if in prayer— fuck. It’s all so stimulating.

All too soon, Sayori seizes in her arms, flooding Yuri’s mouth with cloying sweetness and soaking her fingers with dripping heat. Yuri does her best to coax her through it, continuing to lavish her with devotion until she becomes lax, breathing staggered and clutching Yuri weakly.

Yuri recalls a fact that had escaped her, possessed as she was by bloodlust and arousal; she will need to stop drinking at some point, lest Sayori suffer the consequences of blood loss. She’s not fully sated, no, never. Sayori instils in her a ravenous thirst that cannot be so simply quenched. But her cravings are appeased by this tithe. With all the restraint she has, she forces her jaw to loosen, and pulls her fangs away. 

As a course of habit, she finds herself lapping at the marks she left, savouring the lingering rivulets of blood and closing Sayori’s wounds in the process. When she presses a kiss into the hollow of Sayori’s neck, though, it isn’t impulse, but the purest expression of reverence; a breath of praise on hallowed ground.

As much as she would like to continue to wax poetic about her girlfriend’s beauty, though, Sayori’s wellbeing is the priority right now. “Sayori, beloved, how do you feel?” she murmurs, brushing Sayori’s bangs out of her face.

“That was incredible,” Sayori croaks.

Yuri smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’m glad.” She reaches over to the bedside table for a bottle of water, reluctant to leave Sayori’s side for long. “Here, drink,” she offers, “you sound ghastly right now.”

“Heck yeah, Minecraft. Thanks.” Sayori sits up to accept the gift and tilts her head back, chugging the bottle with vigour.

Yuri stops and watches the movement with great interest, the desire for Sayori to drink her up with the same enthusiasm welling up inside her. Thankfully, her vampiric constitution prevents her from blushing.

Sayori notices her staring and grins. Yuri averts her gaze, aware of being caught, of her  _ needs _ on full display.

Sayori straddles Yuri’s lap and cups her face, gently coercing her to make eye contact again. Once she has her attention back in full, she caresses Yuri’s cheek, her thumb coming down to trace the curve of her lips. Yuri trembles at the contact, letting out a shuddering breath. Sayori’s eyes flick down to her mouth and then back up.

“Your pupils are really big right now, you know,” Sayori remarks. “See something you like?”

“I, that’s— Y-you should probably eat something,” Yuri stammers, attempting to change the subject back to Sayori.

Sayori giggles. “Mmm, perhaps,” she hums mischievously, leaning in close enough that their lips just barely brush together. “You’re looking awfully tasty, though,” she murmurs. “Would you be my snack?”

How could Yuri deny her that, when she’s so close, so warm, so loving and tender? She surrenders herself at Sayori’s altar, happy to offer herself as a sacrifice.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I found writing Yuri waxing poetic in her internal monologue actually really fun, if a bit challenging to do. Feel free to comment, if you're so inclined. Kudos are also appreciated!


End file.
